


Bread and Honey

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A little angst, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Legends, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Rimming, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Hobbit Kink Meme:</p><p>The Shire is very close to Beorn's lands. The hobbits are terrified of the skin-changer: they give him food, and clothes and all kinds of things as tributes. In return, Beorn pretty much ignores their existence. One day Bilbo is happily walking around the borders of the Shire when he finds an unconscious bear, with its paw in a trap and only a fool will get close to help such dangerous predator, of course, Bilbo is that Took of a fool. He frees the animal, bandage the wound as much as he can and goes away when the bear is regaining consciousness. A few days later the scary Beorn comes to the Shire, requesting Bilbo's presence on his house. The hobbits get the wrong idea -he meant it as a guest- and tie up poor Bilbo and leave him as a tribute for the big man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day began as any one might expect. No one could have thought that day would change Bilbo Baggins’ life. Not at all. It was Tribute Day, but…that was the only thing that would make the day unique to him that morning.

The villagers laid out the offerings to the Bear King at the edge of the Shire. Food, clothes, trinkets…anything they had to offer it was there.

Bilbo’s offering had been a pipe he carved. He didn’t know if the Bear King liked to smoke, but if not, it would count as a trinket and that was suitable enough. He laid the pipe with the countless other things going to be sent to the Bear King that day and left it at that.

Stepping inside his Hobbit Hole, knowing that he’d not need to worry about the next gift for a couple weeks—as Tribute Day was once a month—he set to make second breakfast. He didn’t think he _needed_ to offer up a tribute that day, but he didn’t think it’d be wise to assume anything about the Bear King.

Perhaps it meant more than he knew, but as far as he was concerned, there was no good reason to not aid the beast that was caught in a bear trap—set by Men or Orcs, he could not tell—he came across nearly a month ago. Bilbo had intended at first to leave the thing, but after a few steps, he turned around.

The bear was asleep. Probably unconscious from the pain it had undergone. With a sigh, he had turned back around and pried the trap open, cutting his hands and fingers as they slipped against the metal. Once open, he pulled the injured foot away, seeking out something to clean the wound. Roots, tree sap, leaves…whatever he could find that he knew would help.

True, he didn’t know what the effects the medicine he made for the beast would affect it, but after what seemed like several hours of working, the bleeding stopped and he bound the wound in a picnic blanket he ripped into strips, tying them around the wound as a tourniquet.

A bellow had halted his movements just has he had finished. The bear had awoken and _was looking right at him_.

Bilbo swallowed, backing away slowly. He did what he could and that was enough.

When the bear stood, injured paw raised in the air, Bilbo thought he’d need to run. Instead, the bear bowed its head to him and hobbled away, giving Bilbo a chance to turn around and sprint as fast as he could home.

The rest of his day then had been rather pleasant, even if he was a little shaky on his feet.

That shakiness left after a week and now he was quite content to sit by the fire and read a book.

Or he would had his door not burst open and three of his _own_ relatives tackled him to the ground, tying him up and gagging him before he could even bark out the demand to know what in Yavanna’s green earth they thought they were doing!

Bilbo was carried to the tribute pile and placed on top of it. He tried to loosen the ropes around his torso and feet to no avail, groaning and hissing through the gag. Turning toward the forest, he ceased struggling, eyes bugging at the sheer size of the Man before him. His ruddy skin and thick hair made the giant far scarier than Bilbo thought he’d be.

Bilbo swallowed.

“I don’t think you understood what I meant,” the Man said. His voice is deep and booming as though it were thunder itself.

“Just take him and go!” Camellia Sackville-Baggins shouted. “We’ve given you our tributes! What more do you demand of us?”

The Man fumed and Bilbo wondered if he was going to stomp on Camellia. He did no such thing, hoisting the cart up into his arms, Bilbo still tied and gagged on top of everything, and they entered the forest.

Bilbo shivered, wondering what cruel twist of fate had led to him being bound and gagged and offered up to this Man. What did he want with him?

He squirmed. Did he want them to give him a Hobbit to satisfy other needs? Bilbo shuddered. He knew he was a bit _off_ (if his relatives had anything to say about his inclination toward the male sex) but that shouldn’t mean that they could just offer him up like a sacrifice!

_Damn them! These bonds are too tight…Can’t slip them…_

Bilbo wriggled on top of the other tributes. He groaned, tears pricking his eyes. The cart stopped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d do this,” the Man said. He took a knife. Bilbo eyed it, eyes wide. He shut his eyes, shaking. No. Not seeing was worse. He opened them again, but the Man had walked around to him. Bilbo heard the knife slice through the rope and his hands were freed. He removed the gag while the Man undid the bindings on his feet.

“Are you letting me go?”

“You were never meant to be a prisoner in the first place,” he said. “But it seems your kin thought otherwise. If you wish to go, then go. I will not stop you.”

Bilbo looked at his feet. “They’ll just send me back. They think you’ll come after us if we don’t listen to you.”

“Why? You’re nice enough for being a bunch of rabbits.”

“But…you’re the Bear King.”

“The _what_?”

Bilbo ducked his head. Had he offended him somehow? He didn’t know and he waited to find out the verdict.

“I suppose we can discuss it later. For now, you’re certainly welcome to stay in my home until things die down and it is safe for you to return.”

“I doubt it ever will be, but thank you anyway.”

The man said nothing since. They stopped at a stream and Bilbo took advantage of the stop to relieve himself, wash, and eat.

“I don’t know where you’re people got this ‘bear-king’ nonsense,” he said. “True, I take the form of a great bear, but I am no king, just a shape-shifter.” He handed Bilbo a cake. Bilbo thanked him, taking it. “My name is Beorn.”

“Oh. I’m…Bilbo Baggins…so…you’re really not going to do anything to me?”

“No. As I said, I only wished to speak with you.”

“Is it about the bear that I helped a few weeks ago?”

“I was that bear.”

Bilbo felt his eyes might pop out of his head and he almost dropped the cake in his hand. _I saved the Bear-King?!_ “I didn’t know.”

“I figured as much. I waited until I had healed before coming.” He pulled the torn cloth Bilbo had used to bandage the wound. “Sadly, I hadn’t been able to clean it properly.”

“It’s fine. Keep it. I’ve no use for it anymore.” The cloth disappeared back into Beorn’s pocket. Bilbo finished eating. “Is your house really so far from the Shire?”

“Well,” Beorn licked his fingers. “It’s over the water, if that’s what you mean, by the Greenwood’s borders, so no. Not quite. It’s about half a day’s walk for someone of my height.” He patted his thigh. “Long legs are faster than short ones. I’m sure it’d take a little bunny like yourself at least a week to reach it.”

Bilbo hummed. He didn’t know what to say to that. The sun truly was still quite high, indicating that it was probably luncheon. He took another cake after Beorn had pushed the plate in front of him, wordlessly urging him to have his fill.

“Erm…so…a week’s journey in one day?”

Beorn nodded. “Again, I’m bigger than even an average sized man.”

“Really? I didn’t know! We don’t get much Big Folk coming into the Shire. Save for a wizard or two and yourself.”

“You’re land is kept isolated for a reason, I believe.  The wizards I known. I’ve spoken with them many times. You think you need pay me for the protection I offer, and I take it, but I am doing a favor for friends. I don’t protect your people out of duty. I hadn’t thought these…offerings,” he glanced at the cart. “Were more to keep on my good side rather than an expression of gratitude.”

“Why?”

“Your land, the Shire you call it, is at the foot of the Misty Mountains, home of Goblins and Orcs. The wizards have spells to keep them from coming, but when they are not around, the spells can weaken and they ask me to make sure the perimeters of your land are safe.”

“So that is why there are so many bear sightings…”

“But no attacks.”

Bilbo blushed. “Yes. No attacks. Which is what those are for,” he shifts his gaze to the cart again. “To ensure there will continue to be no attacks.” I don’t think anyone thought of it any other way. And I hadn’t a clue that we were so close to Orcs and Goblins. There’s the occasional group who shows up and we fight if we must—we aren’t helpless, you know—”

“But you’re numbers are limited.”

Bilbo bowed his head. “My people have hidden in the Shire for generations,” he admits. “According to our myths it was because of the Big Folk…Men. No one talks about it because we are…we’d rather not.”

Bilbo wiped his eyes, trying to stop the tears.

“Hundreds of years ago,” he began, “Hobbits lived in peace among the other three races: Men, Elves, and Dwarves. Peace was among them. But…one day, a Lord decided he wanted the land Hobbits resided in. Hobbits, peaceful folk by nature, seemed primitive to him and he deemed to conquer them and take their home. His soldiers slew thousands of Hobbits. The Dwarves and Elves came to their aid and a few families managed to escape, but most of us were murdered.

“When a King of Men found out about the massacre, he had the lord and all who served him put to death, but the damage was done and it was too late. Hobbits would never again trust Men. The King sanctioned off a new land for them to travel to with a guard of Elves and Dwarves, since Men had lost the trust of Hobbits…”

“And the numbers previously never recovered?”

Bilbo nodded. “Too much inbreeding, I suppose. Everyone is related to everyone in one way or other. Our people used to live as long as Dwarves did, but due to that I think we nearly halved our lifespan or more. Our families tend to breed like rabbits, so you’re comparison to us being like bunnies I suppose is accurate…but some of our women are barren and some of our men impotent and some of our children never reach adulthood because of illnesses.

“The others do not?”

“The others,” Bilbo scoffed, “Hardly think much about it. Save for the Tooks and Bagginses. I’m related to both families. My mother was the eldest daughter of the last Thain. She and my father both were scholars…I’m related, perhaps, to half of the whole Shire.”

“ _Half_?!”

“Both sides of my family are large. My mother’s got about…fourteen siblings. My father was the eldest of five, which wasn’t so bad…”

Beorn patted his head. “You are right in that inbreeding is dangerous and you’re theories perhaps are true. I am sorry about the history of your people. I know poachers’ minds well and do not permit them in my forest no more than I do Orcs. The Wizards may know of what happened and hope to help you. You have friends in the Elves and Dwarves at least.”

“We have not seen either in ages.”

“I host Elves once in a while. You will have tales to tell when you return.”

“Will I return?”

“If you wish to return I will not stop you. You are not my prisoner and I will not treat you as one.” Beorn stood. “However, I do advise staying in at night. Foul things run amuck in the dark and I’d loathe to find they’d caught you.”

Bilbo nodded. He could agree to that.

_He’s not so bad once you get to know him a little…_


	2. Chapter 2

“Is everything here supposed to be so large?” Bilbo asked, sitting with his legs crossed beneath him so to raise himself just a little higher onto the seat.

“I’m afraid so,” Beorn mused. “I’ll build some stools and ladders for you if that would help.”

Bilbo grinned. “It would. Thank you.”

“In the meantime…” Beorn took a pillow, handing it to Bilbo who stood and placed it underneath him. The chair became infinitely more comfortable while also allowing him to sit with more ease at the table.

“I can make some other things more my size too,” Bilbo said, lifting the mug with both hands. “Such as cups and plates…everything is so large here! No offense meant.”

Beorn smiled. Bilbo balked at how sharp his incisors seemed to look. “None taken. It may help you keep busy in the meantime.”

“It would,” Bilbo raised the mug to his lips and drank. A giant bee buzzed around his head and Bilbo gasped at the creature.

“Back off, you’re scaring him,” Beorn snapped. The bee buzzed away, landing on the table and rubbing its legs together.

“Are your bees always so large?”

“Yes. You need not fear them. They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”

“No need to worry. I’ve never seen a bee so large!” The bee turned to him. Bilbo felt he was being appraised. The look it gave him felt nasty. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” Its wings fluttered before flying off. “Are…all the animals here quite large, too?”

“They are compared to their average sized cousins that Men fancy to keep,” Beorn wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

Bilbo wondered if he successfully beat down his cringe. He truly hoped so. He didn’t want to offend his host in any way. Especially since Beorn towered over him several feet. (Granted, he towered over Men as well, from what Bilbo guessed.)

Bilbo took another drink and set the big mug down, placing his hands in his lap. “Have you any books?”

“I get them here and there,” Beorn admitted. “I can’t read though and they’re rather small in my hands. They seem fragile too.”

_Can’t read?!_

“Maybe I could read to you if you like. I can read Cirth and Sindarin.”

“What would be in them?”

“Histories, myths, legends, epics, poetry…a whole lot of things, all of which tell stories. True, stories don’t _always_ need to be written down, but they are easier to pass around and preserve when written. Details get changed when stories are told orally. One moment, you’ll hear that a god or hero did something good and some years later, they’ll end up demonized!”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Indeed not!” Bilbo exclaimed, banging his fist against the table excitably. “Can you imagine?! If _the Lay of Beren and Luthien_ were not written and preserved by the Elves, it could have been changed from an epic love story to a tale of horror! It could have been woefully destroyed! Thankfully, Elves are rather good at writing down their histories…Men and Hobbits not so much.”

He blushed and backed down.

“Apologies. I love stories and I’ve often come across new versions of stories written before that don’t match and then I have difficulty figuring out which is true and which is not and it all gets to my head…I can’t imagine what would happen if the original writers lived and discovered the retellings! If it were to happen to me, I’d be beside myself with anger…”

Beorn waved him off. “You are passionate about stories as I am about my friends. I like stories and it is rare for stories to come my way. I would like it if you read what resides in those books I have.” He stood and helped Bilbo down. “I have several rooms for guests.”

“Thank you. Erm…what about the dishes?”

“The dogs will get them.”

“Dogs?” Bilbo turned around to see a few large bearhounds trot by and stand on their hind legs, clearing the table with their forepaws. Bilbo’s mouth dropped. “They aren’t only larger, are they? They’re also much more intelligent!”

“More than most Men,” Beorn agreed, giving Bilbo another wide grin. “Past guests have said it takes getting used to. But I’m sure you’ll come to like them as much as a normal dog.”

Bilbo hummed. “I suppose they’re less likely to knock me down…”

“Aye. They’re not that rude,” Beorn laughed, bringing a smile to Bilbo’s face. Beorn opened a room. “For you, Bilbo Baggins. If you need anything, let one of the animals know. They’ll understand you, even if you feel silly. I’ll be back some time tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?”

“You need not worry. My house is safe even when I am not here. As to where I am going: I am headed to make sure there are guards along the outskirts of the Shire.”

“But you were just _there_.”

“That does not make my duty any less important.” Beorn ruffled his head. Bilbo half wanted to push it off but feared what would happen if he dared. “Goodnight, Bilbo.”

“Goodnight.”

He entered the room and the door closed behind him with a soft click. Bilbo hoisted himself up onto the bed. He may have to get a ladder or stepstool for his new _bed_ too, much to his chagrin.

But once in, he managed to curl under the covers and closed his eyes, trying to stop the quick beating of his heart from the fear screaming in the back of his head not to trust Beorn so readily.

After all, he was still one of the Big Folk.

#

A large dusty coated rabbit walked beside Bilbo on its haunches, nose and ears twitching at each new sound and smell. Bilbo’s presence, he supposed, disrupted life as the animals here knew it. The cats, especially, didn’t seem to like the change, staring at Bilbo behind corners. The dogs didn’t mind as much, offering him whatever he liked and happy to be of assistance.

The rabbit’s forepaw patted a chest and pushed it open. Bilbo balked at the books piled on top of another. He picked up dusty tome and blew. Dust flew in all directions. He and the rabbit both sneezed The cover cracked when he opened it, telling him it was never opened in its life.

 _Poor thing_ , Bilbo thought, turning the delicate pages.

It was a book of poetry, Dwarfish rather than Elfish, and Bilbo’s curiosity was peaked. He had never read Dwarfish poetry before. He didn’t even know that Dwarves fancied literature considering how dedicated they are to their jewels and gems hewn from the mountains they live in.

As he read, he learned it was an epic, a tale of one of the Seven Fathers of Dwarf-Kind, Durin the Deathless, translated into Cirth:

_In the Years of the Trees, within the mountains of mist,_

_Deep in the rock he awoke, eldest of the Dwarf Lords._

_Durin, whom death dared not claim, came forth…_

Bilbo closed the book and headed outside to sit in the sun, book propped on his lap.

Where the rabbit went, he didn’t know. He had forgotten to thank the creature! He’d have to apologize for that later. A dog approached, laying a plate of apple slices beside Bilbo along with a cloth napkin to wipe the juices off with.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, picking up a slice. The dog’s tail thumped happily and he trotted away, claws clicking against the wooden floor before lying down in the sun and yawning…

A shadow cast over Bilbo. “What are you reading?”

Bilbo looked up at Beorn, squinting. The sun glared around the skin-changer and he seemed nothing more than a great shadow that barely blocked the sun.

“An epic I found. Never read. I’ve no idea how you got it, but it’s fascinating! It’s about Durin the Deathless, one of the seven Dwarf Fathers. I never knew Dwarves had literature…”

“They are fiercely protective and secretive,” Beorn said. “It amazes even me that I had something so valuable.”

“Why are they secretive though? So much of what they know could be shared!”

“Because they don’t like Men or Elves,” Beorn said, sitting beside Bilbo, “To them, Men are rude and Elves are arrogant. I don’t know what they think of your people.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure he wanted to. While he agreed with a Dwarfish perspective on Men, for they were rude to Hobbits too, according to Bilbo’s father, the Elves he and his family had met were kindhearted and far from arrogant.

“They may take kinder to Hobbits,” Bilbo guessed. “My people are about the same height as they are if not a little smaller and not as stout. Perhaps they’d be less threatened by Hobbits.”

Beorn laughed. “Maybe so. Are you hungry? It is nearly midday.” Bilbo blinked, he didn’t realize it! He had completely missed Second Breakfast and Elevensies! And now he could feel it in his stomach. The apple slices had staved the initial pangs of hunger, at least.

“Famished,” he said, closing the book and following Beorn inside. The Man did his best to not walk to fast for Bilbo, which the Hobbit appreciated. He wondered if it annoyed Beorn, having to walk so slow in his own home.

_Probably did._

A chair had been fitted with rungs for Bilbo and he climbed up. “Hobbits like to garden, do they not?”

“We do like to garden,” Bilbo said.

“A plot will be made for your use then,” Beorn said. “So you don’t get tired of reading so much.”

Bilbo grinned, lifting the big cup in his hand. “That’d be wonderful, thank you!”

Rapping interrupted them. Beorn turned toward the door, frowning. “Pardon me.” He left the table, heading toward the door.

“You’re late, Gandalf,” he growled, stepping aside for an old Man dressed in grey.

“Nonsense!” Gandalf snapped, whacking his staff against Beorn’s thick bicep. “A wizard is never late. He arrives precisely when he means to. Besides, nothing wrong with a little dramatic entrance.”

“That was anything _but_ dramatic,” Beorn said, sitting down again. Bilbo was quite inclined to agree. If the wizard wanted dramatic, he should have come inside with a burst of lightening behind him or something of that matter.

“Details,” Gandalf muttered, setting his hat and staff down. “One of your charges in the Shire have gone missing and I—well.” He stared at Bilbo. “And here he is. The mystery is solved! Of course, now I’d like to know how you came to live here, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo swallowed, explaining the events leading to his stay in Beorn’s house. Gandalf hummed, waiting for the tale to finish, stroking his beard.

“I am sorry to hear that, Bilbo,” he said. “Miscommunication seems to ever be an issue…I will talk to the Thain. By tomorrow everything will be cleared up. It will, at least, keep your less savory relatives from looting your house.”

“Oh dear, had they _already_ tried to take Bag End?”

“Don’t worry: I’ve taken care of it.” He took out a pipe and lit it. “Once the Thain knows what mistake has been made, you’ll be able to return at any time you like. How are you enjoying your stay here so far?”

“Quite well, so far. I’ve not been here long enough to properly judge. But Beorn is kinder than I thought he’d be. Which, I think, would throw my relatives and associates into a frenzy…Most of us expect him to be as much a beast in man-form as he is in bear-form.”

Beorn shrugged and Gandalf laughed. “Well your relatives could do with a shock or two in their lives. For now, I hope you enjoy your stay. Beorn,” his voice tensed. Bilbo held his breath, feeling a darker topic was about to arise. “The Orcs are heading this way. There is rumor that they intend to attack the Shire.”

“I know,” Beorn said. “My people and the Rangers both are already well on their way to fighting them back into the mountain. They won’t get anywhere near the Hobbits.”

Gandalf nodded. “Good. Radagast and I trust you…”

Bilbo tried not to shudder. Orcs resided so close? “Erm…how many times have the Orcs…try to invade the Shire?” he asked. Beorn and Gandalf stared at him. “I just…I’ve never known…”

“At least once a year. Always on the cusp of winter,” Beorn replied.


	3. Chapter 3

_Bilbo tried not to shudder. Orcs resided so close? “Erm…how many times have the Orcs…try to invade the Shire?” he asked. Beorn and Gandalf stared at him. “I just…I’ve never known…”_

_“At least once a year. Always on the cusp of winter,” Beorn replied._

“This has been going on…”

“Longer than you’ve been alive,” Gandalf admitted sadly. “The Shire is fertile land and the Hobbits so peaceful that the Orcs nearby seem to find them…ideal as pets. The land is protected by Beorn’s clan, at least ten teams of Rangers (which sums up of about two hundred Men in total), and a centurion of Elves from the Greenwood. And two wizards.”

“All in all, that is a force of three hundred and fifty warriors at least,” Beorn added. The force is small, but without the whole of it working together, the Shire could have been overrun years ago.”

“And…so…would that mean that my people could have been…” _Extinct?_

Bilbo couldn’t voice the word. That his people are still hunted, still so dependent on those bigger than them…forced to trust those who at any moment could, if they wished, easily turn on them and they, again, would be in danger of dying out. There are too few Hobbits…They only had the Shire.

“The Fell Winter…a few years ago…?”

Beorn and Gandalf stared at the table. _Orcs had crossed into the Shire, with wolves…so many had died…murdered in their homes…_

“They slipped past the defenses that year.”

“The same defenses were increased after that,” Gandalf said. “The Fell Winter never should have happened, Bilbo, the Orcs never should have managed to get that far into the Shire.”

“No matter,” he stood. “Erm, if you’ll excuse me…” Bilbo had nothing else to say. Didn’t know what else to say. He just… _hated_ it when the weakness of his people’s race was rammed into his face.

Was the risk of being overrun, dominated, and slaughtered the price of being peaceful? Why did they have to suffer? Bilbo didn’t understand it. Nor did he want to accept it. Not ever!

And for years, his people lived in peace bought on the blood of others?! How was this fair?!

How is that peace?!

#

“ _I cannot say it will be for the better,_ ” Gandalf said, voice muffled on the other side of the door. Bilbo opened his eyes. “ _If there was a way to stop Orcs and Goblins from trying to overrun the Shire, it would have been done already._ ”

“ _It isn’t right, trapping them in their home, Gandalf. Even if they are safer, they’re less prepared for attack. Let the Rangers venture in. Them and the Elves, let them wake the rabbits up._ ”

“ _And what?_ ” Gandalf snapped. “ _Have them move? Have them cross the Misty Mountains toward the sea? What then? There is very little room left for them where they are welcome._ ”

“ _The Dwarves will protect them far more readily than Elves and Men. The Elvenking grows weary of sending troops to a land that hardly sees battle save once a year. He does not care for them. The Elves are turning blind eyes. Men are growing weary of their weakness. Why not convince them to take up arms? Let them create a force of their own._ ”

“ _If they could be a militant force, do you think they would need you, me, the rangers, or the Elves?_ ”

Bilbo grit his teeth, heading to the door and it swung open. He glared at the wizard, arms crossed over his chest.

“We aren’t exactly being given the chance to defend ourselves, if you think about it!” he snapped. “All this protection you speak of along the Shire’s borders…it lulled my people into a false sense of security. We are under the impression that we are in no immediate danger and now I know that there is danger lurking on our very doorstep! Perhaps if we are given the chance to see that peace is just a stupid illusion, we may be able to become a ‘militant force!’”

He pushed past the two, deciding to get some fresh air. The sun was setting and Bilbo knew he really ought to go inside before the sun dipped down into the horizon. Crickets sang in the darkness. The animals were heading to bed.

Still Bilbo did not move, hugging his legs to his chest.

A large snout blew in his ear. Bilbo squeaked, looking at the bear sitting in front of him. “B…Beorn?”

The bear growled and licked Bilbo’s face. Bilbo coughed and spat, trying to get rid of the bear drool that slipped into his mouth. The beast laid his head on his paws, looking up at Bilbo dolefully.

With a shaky hand, Bilbo ran his fingers over Beorn’s snout, up to his head, behind his ears. Each stroke gave him confidence and calmed him down. He scooted down, burying into the bear’s furred ribs, relishing the heat radiating out of him and feeling free to cry.

He wanted to go home. Wished he had never learned that his people were forever at risk of danger. He muffled his cries into Beorn and let his tears drench the black, coarse fur. He wished there was something he could do to keep his people safe.

One Hobbit wouldn’t be able to convince the rest of them that there was danger at the edge of the home all the time and that if they were more open to fighting, the deaths that happened in the Fell Winter when Bilbo was just a little child would never have happened.

The whole situation, Bilbo decided, seemed quite hopeless.

Beorn shifted, turning his head, large wet head around and snuffling Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo pulled away, the cold nose and puffs of air tickling him. It was hard to remember that, in all actuality, he was in the presence of a giant bear, giant even by the standards of the Big Folk. Quite possibly dangerous, but at the moment, it was hard to remember that.

How could he keep in mind that Beorn was still dangerous? Given how he nuzzled Bilbo’s tummy and sniffed his face and pressed into Bilbo’s pets, he could possibly be an oversized pet.

Bilbo decided to keep _that_ observation to himself.

“I’m supposed to be inside right now, aren’t I?” he mused. Beorn yawned. “Sorry about that. And thank you for being so patient with me. I’m afraid I was not a very good guest today after you returned. I’ll probably take over the kitchens tomorrow then if I’m able to reach. I hope berry scones suit you. Or perhaps honey cakes.”

Beorn’s ears perked up at the mention of berries and honey. Bilbo managed to chuckle, scratching behind Beorn’s ears. He sighed contentedly.

“In the morning. If I’m awake. If not, then when I am. Then I’ll see if there’s a story you might like among your trunk full of books.”

Beorn…purred? Or was it just a rumble in the back of his throat? Do bears purr?

Well, it sounded like purring to Bilbo, so until Beorn he was corrected, he would call the sound a purr. He relaxed into Beorn’s gait and when he woke, he was back in his room.

He could still smell Beorn’s earthy musk on his clothes. His hair was in dire need of washing and he smelt, well, like a bear.

After thoroughly washing up and finding that clean clothes had been left for him. A faint smell made him think, though he wasn’t sure _how_ , that a dog had made them for him. Never the less, Bilbo was a Baggins and though his Took blood was what brought him to Beorn initially, a Baggins is nothing if not polite, so he donned the clothes.

The smell of bearhound would go away eventually and his old clothes did need to be washed.

“Have you seen Beorn?” he asked a cat. The feline’s ears splayed back as she looked around before shaking her head and slinking off.

Cats. So fidgety.

#

Beorn returns near the noon hour. He’s dirty and claims he’s sore. Bilbo believes him. There is a tiredness in his eyes that wasn’t there the previous day.

“Orcs?”

Beorn nods. “They’re organized this time.”

“So…” _Will the Shire be all right?_ It’s on the tip of his tongue, weighing it down in the want to be voiced. But for the life of him he could not speak.

Beorn patted his head. His hand felt heavier than the last time he patted Bilbo’s head. “You’re people will be safe,” he assured him. “I’ll have the scones you promised me after I’ve bathed.”

Bilbo felt a blush creep on his face. He had almost forgotten about that! However, it’s overshadowed by the memory that he _wept_ on Beorn’s fur. Seeing him as a Man made the act seem more embarrassing than it had felt when Beorn was in his bear-skin.

“They’ll be ready in a little bit,” he promised, dashing for the kitchen. The dogs helped him reach what he needed, pushing aside his embarrassment as he cooked.

Once the scones were in the oven, Bilbo lay on the table, elbows propping his arms up and his hands supporting his head.

 _I know I had quite the frightening revelation last night,_ he thought, _but for goodness sakes, Bilbo Baggins, don’t go crying about it! Especially not on a big bear with sharp teeth and can turn into a Man!_

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the wood. A bearhound rested his muzzle on the table, whining.

“Yes, yes, it’s all very silly,” Bilbo mumbled. The dog barked, heading to the oven. “Are they ready? Wag your tail three times if yes.”

The dog whacked its tail against the floor three times and then stopped.

“Thank you most kindly,” Bilbo said, rescuing the scones with a folded cloth. The smell of blueberries tickled his nose and watered his mouth. He pulled out sweet smelling cakes after it, leaving them on the counter to cool. A bee buzzed in and landed on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Yes, I made honey cakes. I promised Beorn,” he told the bee. His voice cracked a bit. “You aren’t mad at me are you?”

 The bee buzzed in his ear once then took off.

“I guess not,” he murmured as it exited the house. “Goodness, I’m talking to animals and they understand me! Everyone back home will _never_ believe this!” he turned to the dog. “Don’t let anyone eat them,” he said. The dog barked, saluting him with his paw. “I’m going to find a book to read to Beorn now. Be back in a few.”

Bilbo stopped at the trunk, riffling through the tomes. An crusty edition of _The_ _Silmarillion_ in Sindarin…a bit dry…Silvan poetry, also in Sindarin…probably best to stick with something in Westron until he could translate the two or find copies written in Cirth.

 _Oh! The Trials of Maeglin!_ Bilbo picked up the book and dusted it, smiling. It was an epic inspired by the historic prince whose tale was told in _The Silmarillion._

Bilbo cradled the book to his chest and returned to the kitchen. The dog was pacing the room, mimicking a wolf and growling at his companions if they so much as dared made for the pastries. Bilbo cleared his throat and patted his head.

“Thank you again. I think they’re cooled enough now. Would you like one?”

The dog’s tail whipped through the air and his tongue lolled. Bilbo held one of each out and the dog nearly bit his hand on taking a honey-cake.

“Careful now!” Beorn said, entering the room, he picked up a cake for himself. “Don’t go biting the hand that feeds you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the cliché, eating the scone left in his hand. Milk would do well with them. Or tea. He preferred tea.

“Which story have you chosen to tell me today, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo swallowed and grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, bears purr or make a similar sound when happy or comfortable. 
> 
> http://www.bear.org/website/bear-pages/black-bear/communication/29-vocalizations-a-body-language.html


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo closed the book and laid it on his lap, finishing the last of his tea contemplatively. The sun is setting, an orange ball of flames falling below the Greenwood. Beorn had been gone for three days now and Bilbo was getting anxious for his host and friend.

The animals acted agitated, though Bilbo only felt it. He wondered if something had befallen the large man.

 _There is little you can do now_ , Bilbo reminded himself, sighing as he went to set the used dishes away and go gardening. _You won’t get far today with what little light there is left. Best to go in the morning._

Satisfied with that plan, he exited the house and approached the plot of earth that was loosened for his use. It was a flower and herb garden—the herbs would take a little while to cultivate, but the flowers were already sprouting. Bilbo felt a twinge of excitement for the finished product as he filled the water bucket.

The air was cool and it was the ideal time to water the plants.

He almost dropped the bucket at the sound of knocking at the door, fast and demanding. Bilbo frowned. No one came and even if they did, he didn’t feel comfortable letting anyone in unless Beorn was home. He headed to the door and the knocking intensified.

“Is anyone home?!” someone shouted behind the door. “Please! We need help!” Whoever was outside sounded desperate enough to Bilbo…but fear could be faked. Right?

Should he let them in?

“Orcs are about! Help us!”

“Fili, maybe there’s no one here.”

“Then no one will mind us staying here for the night.”

Bilbo sighed. With shaking hands, he opened the door. Standing before him were two Dwarves. They were young. If they were Hobbits, Bilbo would say they had both barely past their majority. The eldest sported blond plaits and several swords which made Bilbo anxious. The other, he supposed the younger of the two, had barely a stubble and his dark hair was pulled back to his head, but otherwise fell down his shoulders in a shaggy mane.

“You say you need shelter?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Please.”

Bilbo bit his lip. “The master of the house is gone at the moment, but I don’t think he’d mind you staying the night—”

The boys, for Bilbo could not in good conscious call them men, scurried past him and the door was closed.

“You’re a Halfling, aren’t you?” the blond asked, staring at Bilbo.

Bilbo bristled and any anxiety he felt over the presence of the Dwarves disappeared with his bubbling anger. “The term,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest and straightening to full height, “is ‘Hobbit.’ My people are not half of anything. We are the size we are meant to be. And would _you_ take such an insult from another race? Say Elves or Men came around calling _you_ ‘Halfling’ because you’re just as small as a Hobbit, even if stouter or stronger. Would you take it?”

The brunette snorted behind his hand, shoulders shaking while the blond sputtered, blushing.

“I meant no offense, Sir,” he said sheepishly, “It’s just…many call Hobbits ‘Halflings.’ I didn’t think it was an insult.”

“Well now you know, Master…”

“Fili.”

“And Kili,” the brunette said. They bowed together.

“At your service.”

Bilbo nodded his head. “Bilbo Baggins at yours.”

“You say this is not your house?” Kili asked. “Though, I suppose if it were you’d not need so many ladders…”

“Beorn is the master of the house and he is currently away. He should be back sooner or later. I’ll have you know he is a Skin-Changer.”

“Huh?” Kili looked confused. “What’s a Skin-Changer?”

“Well…sometimes he’s a Man about eight feet tall, I guess. I’m not sure how tall he really is…and other times he’s a giant black bear.”

“Whoa…do you change your skin too?”

“Of course not!” Bilbo said, trying not to laugh at Kili. Fili, it seems, decided it would be smarter to keep his mouth shut. “Come on, I’ll show you rooms and you can join me for dinner tonight.”

“Really?!”

“We…no offense Mr. Baggins, we are grateful you let us in, but…”

“You haven’t any reason to be afraid, Master Fili,” Bilbo said. The blond seemed the more cautious of the two. “You’re not in any danger here. Remember you came _here_.”

“I will not forget,” Fili said, “And I really do not mean to be rude, but…”

“Oh for goodness sakes, Fili, those stories are _just stories!_ ” Kili snapped. He smiled at Bilbo. “We have legends of children being lost in the woods and getting eaten by witches. But some of us take them to heart a little too much, such as my brother.”

“Go ahead and say that, but there is a Hobbit here. Why would a Hobbit be here and not in the Shire?”

“Because this Hobbit was invited to stay here for the season,” Bilbo said. “Of course it was due to similar stories that got me here in the first place. In the Shire, there are tales of the Bear-King that lives beyond our borders. We offer tributes to him and the like. Well, the last tribute I partook in landed with me _being_ a tribute. Your stories aren’t so ridiculous. I’ve heard much of the same. Thankfully, there are no witches about and I’m certainly not one. Witches are usually blind and even if I was a witch, neither of you are children.”

“Witches also do not bleed.”

Bilbo sighed. “Well, I’d rather not poke my finger to prove to you that I do bleed and therefore am not a witch, but if you _must_.”

“Fili, that’s enough. If you don’t trust him, then you can leave and brave the Orcs alone. I’m staying here,” Kili snapped. “ _Must_ you be so superstitious, Brother?” Fili sighed and waved his hand, deciding to let Kili handle it.

Kili grinned at Bilbo. “Thank you for your hospitality, Master Boggins, on behalf of Master Beorn.”

“It’s _Baggins_ , but you’re welcome.” He led the brothers down the hall. The animals watched wearily, unsure whether to trust them or not.

“The animals…” Fili began, giving them suspicious looks.

“Yes, they’re big and very intelligent,” Bilbo assured him. “But rather friendly once they get used to you. The cats will take longer to trust you, but what do you expect from cats?”

“Nothing less,” Kili said. “How do you mean intelligent?”

“You know how dogs usually are?”

“Yes.”

“Throw a stick and these ones will just give you a look questioning your sanity.”

“Interesting…”

“It takes some getting used to.”

He stopped between two doors. “Both of them are open for use if you like. Make yourselves comfortable while I make dinner.”

“Thank you, Mr. Boggins.”

Bilbo nodded, deciding to chalk it up to the boys’ accent instead of an intentional mispronunciation of his name. The boys took the rooms, allowing him to let them be and explain to the animals that for now they were trustworthy. Until they did something that proved this trust ill-placed, they were to be respected.

There was no meat, but there were some left over cakes from the day before and some clotted cream, cheese, vegetables, and fruit. Several pitchers of milk to drink…Honey combs to suck on…

Bilbo never met Dwarves, but he knew they liked to eat meat. Beorn tended to avoid serving meat given how many animals lived here safe from hunters and poachers. Since the house was a sanctuary of sorts, it made sense…

Hopefully the Dwarves respected that…

He remembered that Beorn _did_ permit the eating of fish and that would serve as a meat dish for the Dwarves.

Bilbo went to the fish farm, selecting two well sized haddocks. The dogs fetched them for him and with a resounding _thwack_ onto the rocks the fish hung limp. Bilbo carried them to the kitchen, laying each side by side before beheading them with a cleaver, tossing the heads toward the cluster of cats gathering around him.

“If you want fish, you best get your own,” he snapped at the felines. “These two are for our guests. Now scat!” He refused to cower under their scathing glare, but the cats indeed left after that when they realized Bilbo would not budge.

Bilbo took to removing the scales after that, disposing the skin to the side, while the pan heated, greased in margarine. He divided the fish then into three sections each and lay the sections within it. He heard the Dwarves enter, lured by the smell.

“Dinner’s not quite ready yet,” Bilbo told them.

“That’s fine,” Kili said, “We’re settled in and we are very grateful to your hospitality, Master Boggins.”

“Bilbo is fine for now,” he said. He’d rather they use his first name if they continued to butcher his last. “I hope you like fish. I’m afraid it’s the only kind of meat we have available here.”

“So long as Fili’s not cooking, we’re good with anything at this point,” Kili said, earning a slap to the back of his head from Fili.

“How about you tell me why you came knocking and where you’re going.”

He glanced at the brothers, wondering if they’d indulge him. Fili leaned back in his seat.

“My brother and I are going to Belegost in the West. It was where our father was last seen,” he began. “He disappeared when Kili was still a babe. It’s likely he already passed, but overall no one knows what became of him.”

“Some think he was chased away by our uncle the King,” Kili said. “Some think he just up and abandoned our mother. But no one is really sure. Our mother doesn’t talk about him much and our Uncle refuses to say a word about him. But…”

“Our mother is ill and the doctor’s are sure it’s only a matter of time before she passes. She’s taken to fever and keeps calling for our father, so…”

“Our uncle doesn’t know we’ve left. Well…he does _now_ , but when we left he didn’t.”

Bilbo listened quietly. “Where have you come from?”

“Erebor,” Fili said. “The Lonely Mountain.”

“Ered Luin is _clear_ on the other side of the Misty Mountains. I’m sure it would mean more to your mother if you had stayed.”

The boys stared at the floor. “We can’t just watch her die and do nothing,” Kili said softly. “Not if she wishes to see our father again. If it’s possible.”

Bilbo sighed. “Well, stay here and recover your strength for as long as you wish. Ah!” He rescued the fish. “Hold tight a little longer and you’ll have the best fish you’ve had in days.”


	5. Chapter 5

Beorn still had not returned when dawn came. The Dwarves enjoyed the clotted cream and strawberries and took to training in the open field for a while, relishing in the safety Beorn’s house provided them for a short while.

Bilbo wished he could leave and go searching for Beorn, but he also knew he needed to make sure the boys kept out of trouble—something they proved apt for even at their age when he spied Kili climbing the apple tree, startling birds off the branches. He picked the apples and dropped them down to Fili.

Bilbo wondered what he got himself into letting them in…

At least they weren’t trying to rob him or worse. And at least Fili was warming up to him, even if just a little bit.

“Hand me those apples,” Bilbo demanded. “I’ll make a pie with them—”

The boys grinned and followed him into the kitchen.

“Perhaps we could help, Bilbo?” Kili asked.

“Have you any experience cooking?”

They shook their heads.

“Well, never too late to learn.” He handed them two knives, hesitating only a moment. _If they meant to attack, they haven’t done so yet_ , he reminded himself. “Cut up the apples into slices while I make the dough.”

A dog whined and pressed her head against Bilbo’s shoulder. “I know,” he whispered, punching the pie dough into submission. “I miss him too. And I’m worried…”

“Do you know when your master will be back?” Fili asked.

“He’s _not_ my master,” Bilbo corrected patiently. “And no. He’s been gone nearly a week. I intended to go searching for him today, but…”

_I hope he’s all right._

“But we showed up,” Kili concluded, resting the knife on the table.

Bilbo looked up, startled. “Oh, I don’t blame you,” he assured Kili. “I’d rather you be here than fending out in the wild by yourselves with Orcs about. I’m sure he’s fine, it’s just he’s not been gone this long before. Then again, I’ve not been here long myself, so I don’t know if this is normal.”

“Then let’s look for him,” Fili suggested.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If he’s been gone longer than usual, perhaps it’s not just your imagination and something has indeed gone wrong like you fear. If so, we could go with you if you are so anxious to find him.”

Bilbo frowned, studying the two. Fili appeared resolved while Kili anxious.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll leave the pie for later.” He stepped down the ladder made for him. The Dwarves followed, gathering their cloaks and weapons. Bilbo went for his coat and led them outside.

Now that he thought about it. Looking for Beorn was all well and good, but Bilbo hadn’t a _clue_ where to start. “Do you know where he might have gone?”

“My…erm…native land is across the river and nearly at the foot of the Misty Mountains,” he admits. “But his strides are bigger than mine and what could take days for us only takes a few hours for him, so…that’s the best place to start, but…”

“You don’t know,” Fili finished. It wasn’t angry or condescending. There seemed to be a little understanding in his voice.

 _Of course he’d understand,_ Bilbo thought, _they are looking for their father and don’t know where to begin either._

“Orcs and goblins live in the mountains. It’s not _very_ safe but the Shire has its protections: Rangers, some Elves, Beorn and his people…” he smiles sheepishly at the brothers as they head off toward the Carrock. “It’s embarrassing really, but my people never knew about this— _I_ didn’t until I started living here.”

“You are ashamed of the protection they give you?”

“I am ashamed that they lose their lives to protect a bunch of fussy Hobbits with nary a word of gratitude.”

“If your people are really ignorant of the dangers nearby as you say, then they do not know there is anything to thank,” Kili said.

“It’s hardly a good reason.”

“Probably not,” the younger agrees. “But otherwise, you’re people are prosperous?”

“Yes…well, there are those who are poor, but—”

“It could be worse,” Fili said. “It could be that you’re great-grandfather had doomed half the population to starvation in his greed.”

Bilbo stared at him.

“Our mother’s grandfather, King Thror, went mad,” Kili began. “Greed, it seems, can beget madness. Taxes grew too high, with it, prices on food and other necessities also escalated in price.”

“It was a bad time,” Fili clarified. “Our grandfather, Thrain, also fell to the sickness. It ended up being so bad our Uncle Thorin, who is the king now, had to literally _steal_ the throne from Thror. At first, they thought he too befell the madness and that their suffering would just increase under Thorin, but the taxes were immediately relieved, people didn’t have to work so long to make ends meet, and guards were coming around tallying how many persons lived in a house.”

“For the suffering Thror caused, our uncle reimbursed the people personally,” Kili added. “In food and money both until the kingdom was stable again. Thror and Thrain were confined to their rooms. Thorin would not allow them to leave, even if they claimed that the sickness had passed.”

“As far as everyone was concerned, Thorin had saved Erebor from ruin. Now, it is passed that if the King falls to gold madness, he will be stripped of his title and the heir apparent—”

“Which is Fili—”

“Will be crowned King. And if the heir apparent also falls ill then the _next_ in line—”

“Me—”

“Will take up the crown…”

Bilbo hummed, sensing the flaw. “And if Kili becomes gold mad?”

“Well it just goes down the line,” Fili admits. “But it’s never happened more than every couple generations. Besides, Thorin _never_ goes to the treasure room. And has forbidden any of the royal family to do so. The treasurer has to be a Dwarf where the sickness either _never_ took over his ancestors as far as the third ancestor before your father—”

“Which is you’re great-great-grandfather cannot have had it—” Kili interrupts.

“All in all, he’s made precautions, even if they do seem a little…incomplete,” Fili said. “ _Never again will the Line of Durin bring suffering to our people due to greed_.”

Bilbo hummed again. “You’re uncle’s saying?”

“It _is_ a rather enigmatic line.”

“And he’s a rather enigmatic Dwarf, so it fits,” Kili added.

A bellow deep in the forest made them pause. Bilbo headed toward it, despite Fili and Kili’s protests. A bear limped toward Bilbo, snout curled into a snarl. Bilbo held his hands up.

“Beorn, it’s me,” he said. The bear approached cautiously, teeth bared. “It’s me.”

“Bilbo!” Kili hissed. “Back away!”

He ignored them, hands still stretched out. He would not deny that he was afraid, but he couldn’t let Beorn sense that. The bear sniffed one of his hands and relaxed, pressing his nose into the palm. Bilbo slowly raised his hand to the muzzle and scratched. Beorn purred, rubbing against Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo sighed, scratching harder.

“Where have you _been_ all this time? It’s been nearly a week!” He didn’t get an answer, save the constant rumbling in the back of Beorn’s throat. “Let’s go home.”

Beorn started, looking up. His snarl returned. Bilbo turned around and gasped, standing between Kili’s arrow and Beorn, arms outstretched.

“KILI NO!!!”

“Bilbo, it’s a _bear_.”

“It’s _Beorn_ ,” he snapped. “ _Trust me_. He will not harm you if you do not harm him! Kili, _please_! Lower your bow!”

Kili hesitated for moment before lowering his weapon…then turned it to Bilbo’s right, letting the arrow fly. Bilbo gasped, staring at the fallen Orc lying on the ground.

Discovered, the Orcs released a war cry. Kili seized Bilbo, who stumbled back and tripped, flailing and falling onto his rear. He felt afraid. Cold, shivering, slimy fear gripped him so hard he could do nothing but watch.

Three hideous beasts jumped onto Beorn’s back tearing at the fur. Beorn bucked, reaching for them with his paws. Kili shot one down before a grounded Orc tackled him. Fili beheaded the Orc atop Kili.

Bilbo didn’t even notice the Orc heading toward him until it was right in his face and seized Bilbo’s face, cutting off any scream. He raised its twisted, black blade and Bilbo closed his eyes, wishing he could do something other than wait for death…

Beorn roared and Bilbo’s face was scratched He opened his eyes. The Orc struggled in Beorn’s massive jaws before tensing once and then limp. Beorn tossed the corpse to the side before running down the Orcs, biting, swiping and scratching. He stood on his haunches, roaring.

The Orcs ran into the forest, knowing a defeat when it came. Beorn approached Bilbo whining and sniffing him.

“I’m okay,” Bilbo assured him, scratching his ears. “I’m shaken, but I’m okay.” A long pink tongue swiped over his face. “Ugh! Beorn! That’s…ew, I got saliva in my mouth…” Bilbo spat, trying to rid his mouth of bear drool. He glared at Fili and Kili who were laughing. “Enough of that! Let’s go home. And you!” He turned on Beorn. “Where _have_ you been anyway! And why are you still in your bear form?”

No answer, save big brown bear eyes staring at him.

“Don’t think looking cute is going to help you, Beorn!” he snapped, hands on his hips. He still felt shivers crawling through him due to the recent attack, but he stood his ground, trying to seem unaffected. “You’ve made me mad with worry!”

The bear laid down and rested his head on his paws, groaning. Bilbo shook his head.

“For goodness’ sake,” he sighed. “Shall we just go home?” Beorn lifted his head, tilting it to the side, reminding Bilbo of a dog. “Yes, he decides, let’s go home.”

“Are you sure he’s safe?” Fili asked, standing beside him and sending Beorn incredulous looks.

“Well…no. But he hasn’t harmed me or you and Kili. So I think that so long as he knows there’s no threats, we’ll have him on our side…”

Bilbo honestly couldn’t say much more than that. As far as he knew, Beorn could be reasonable even in bear form if he wished to be. Beorn stood and walked before them, limping slightly. They followed and Bilbo frowned at the bear, eyes searching for the wound that ailed his friend.


	6. Chapter 6

Once home, Bilbo sent the Dwarves to bed, halting Beorn.

“Hold still,” he said, running his fingers gently through the fur before he found the injury, earning a growl from Beorn. He glared at him.

“Don’t be like that. Now lie down and don’t move. I’m going to make an ointment for your wound.”

Bilbo gathered the herbs he needed to make the paste grinding them together until it was thick and green. He brought the bowl to Beorn and dipped his fingers into the paste. Beorn shied away.

“Stop it,” Bilbo snapped at him. “Let me put this on you. Or do I have to get the Dwarves to hold you down long enough so I can?”

Beorn snorted, laying his head on his paws.

Bilbo’s hands shook, but he pressed on, lathering the paste onto the wound, watching Beorn wearily.

“All right,” he said, standing and setting the bowl on the table before wiping his hands. “You’re good to go, Beorn. And I am going to bed! Goodnight.”

Beorn stood and nuzzled Bilbo in thanks.

Bilbo scratched his head, smiling. “Don’t lick me again otherwise I’ll go take a bath before bed.”

Beorn dove his tongue out. Bilbo jumped back, glaring at the bear, who purred on the way to his room.

“Sure. Laugh, why don’t you!” he shouts after him. Beorn does not respond and Bilbo huffs, heading to his room and gets ready for bed.

“I owe the boys an apple pie,” he mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

#

Bilbo woke before the others, deciding to make the promised apple pie before they woke.

The animals watched, staring at him while he worked with ears and eyes pointed in his direction. He ignored their begging, pressing the fresh dough into the pan.

Kili met him in the kitchen, yawning and scratching his chest. “Morning, Bilbo.”

“Good morning,” he greeted. “I’m afraid I haven’t started breakfast yet.”

Kili yawned again. “That’s okay. I’d rather wait for Fili to wake up anyway. Are you making pie?”

“I am,” Bilbo said, grinning at him. “Our baking yesterday was interrupted, which left the ingredients out for the pleasure of that lot.”

Kili glanced at the animals, who looked at him with wide and innocent eyes.

“You’re not fooling anyone. Even if you are cute,” he muttered at them, making Bilbo laugh as he spread apple sauce on top of the dough. “So…you’re living with a bear.”

“He can turn into a Man, you know.”

“I’ve yet to see the Man,” Kili reminded him. “All I know is that you went up to a bear _three_ times the size of the usual bear and _pet_ it. If it were me, my heart would have jumped out of my chest! It nearly did, too!”

“Beorn isn’t scary when you get to know him,” Bilbo promised. “I think you’ll like him given the chance. I did. Before then, I was terrified of him.”

“How did you meet?” Kili asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I first met him as you did: when he was a bear,” Bilbo began, “I didn’t know it then, but my people live in fear of the bears roaming the borders of our land. We grew up on stories of a giant Man who lived in the forest who could turn into a bear.

“We called him the Bear King and one a month, we’d give him things to make sure we were kept safe: tributes. Mostly food, sometimes trinkets, and some would make fresh clothes large enough for a Man twice the size of a normal Man sometimes thrice.

“Well, one day, I went walking in the wood and came across Beorn. I didn’t know it was him and he was passed out from blood loss, his foot was caught in a poacher’s trap. Who set it, I don’t know, but I pried it open and did my best to bandage him up before he realized I was there.

“He woke as I was leaving and a few weeks later, my own _relatives_ are tying me up and gagging me, and I’m put on top of the tribute pile. At first I was outraged, then terrified when I saw Beorn.

“He didn’t seem happy, but we left and when we were far enough from the Shire, near the river’s border, he untied me and said if I wanted to go, I could.”

“But you stayed.”

“I was surprised that he wasn’t taking me captive,” Bilbo admitted. “But it wasn’t his intention to do so at all and he wasn’t going to make me stay.

“Well, I deduced that my people would think I ran away and they’d believe that I doomed them to the Bear King’s wrath—a load of hogwash. I know that now—so I decided to stay willingly and I got to know him. He can be fierce as both a Man and a bear, but overall, he’s very kind and I didn’t know that before.”

Bilbo put the pie in the oven and closed it.

“Do you love him?” Kili asked.

Bilbo spun around, startled.

“I mean no offence!” Kili said, holding his hands up, “It’s just…when you were talking about him just now…”

“I care for him, but no. I’m not in love with him. We’re friends. Nothing more. I think it’s safe to assume that he thinks the same.”

Kili nodded. “My apologies then. I meant no offense.”

“Oh, I’m not offended,” Bilbo assured him. “I do prefer men to women…but not many think my preferences are natural. So I suppose that made it easier for them to send me away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are Dwarves not the same?”

“There are few Dwarrowdam among us and fewer willing to marry and have children, so often there are men who fall in love with men and sometimes a woman would fall for a woman, but we do not damn these relationships as your people have…”

Fili entered the room, scratching his head. He sat down, laying his chin on the table. “How can you be so bloody chipper in the morning?” He groaned, staring at them.

“Well, we’ve been up longer,” Bilbo reminded him, smirking.

Fili sighed. “Do you know when…” he left off, biting his bottom lip nervously.

“I don’t know when he’ll wake up. He was injured last night, so he may be resting still. In the meantime, I should get breakfast started…”

Bilbo hummed to himself, trying to think of what was available for him to make that would not require the oven, yet could be provided for the lads. He could make pancakes.

He should have enough flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, butter, eggs, and milk…and jam to top them off, of course, should be somewhere…

Well, not _butter_. Beorn’s animals produced margarine instead, which was just as good.

The egg, maybe, could be gathered…somewhere.

He found the ingredients and sent a dog to fetch an egg and another to get some milk.

The brothers spoke privately in their guttural tongue while Bilbo mixed the dry ingredients together before lighting the stovetop and covering the fire with a pan greased in margarine.

A few minutes later, an egg was produced.

“This good?”

The dog barked an affirmative, tail wagging as the other returned with a pail of milk hanging from its mouth. Bilbo thanked them both, sending them on their way.

“What are you making, Bilbo?” Kili asked.

Bilbo glanced at the boys, who stared at him curiously.

“Have you not had pancakes before?” He guessed from their confused expressions they had not and grinned. “You’re in for a treat then.”

He lightly oiled the pan, spreading it around carefully and measured the batter carefully, pouring each cup into the pan, aware of the eyes on him as he cooked.

He walked them through the recipe, telling them they could take it back home when they headed back after finding what came of their father. Bilbo promised to write it down for them before then.

The dogs set the table and Bilbo placed the plate with the stack in front of them before gathering the jam, a stick of butter, and two spreading knives.

“Eat up—good morning, Beorn.”

The boys turned around and their eyes nearly popped out of their heads.

Beorn seemed a bit pale and moved gingerly, his torso bare and the injury easier to spot. Bilbo frowned. “Would you like more ointment?”

“It is fine, Bilbo,” he said. “Thank you, though. It’s not as bad as it looks, even if it stings.”

Bilbo frowned at that. “Well, breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

Beorn nodded joining them, sniffing at the pancakes curiously.

Bilbo huffed, wondering _how_ people could go about not knowing about _pancakes_. Hobbits clearly needed to get out more and trade cooking secrets with the world. Not knowing what pancakes are.

In Bilbo’s opinion, it was rather sad.

Fili and Kili told Beorn their story as they ate up to yesterday when they met Beorn in his bear form. Beorn listened as he ate, staring at the duo intently.

“Time is against you then.”

“Yes.”

“Yet you stayed here for two nights and a day despite this.”

They nodded.

“Stay one more day and night,” Beorn said. “Use today to gather your supplies and restock them if you need to. I will speak with my men. One of them will take you to the Shire. After that, you have to pass through the Misty Mountains, which can be tricky business. I cannot spare anyone to guide you over the pass, but if you inquire the rangers, you may find one willing to get you past those mountains without the detection of goblins and orcs.”

“Thank you,” Fili said, bowing his head. Kili followed his brother’s movements. “Your aid is most helpful, Master Beorn.”

Bilbo stood and gathered the pie from the oven, setting it on a cooling rack. He turned around to see three hopeful eyes. He frowned. “No. Not until tea! It will be cool enough to eat by then and I will not have anyone burning themselves with my food! Is that clear?”

He tried not to laugh at their deflation and reluctant agreement.


	7. Chapter 7

Satisfied that both packs were sufficiently filled, Bilbo set them on the table. A cat jumped up, paws pressed onto the wooden surface and sniffed.

“Those aren’t for you,” he snapped at her.

The cat glanced at him with a look that said, quite plainly, _what about it? I do what I want and you can’t stop me._

Bilbo moved the sacks away from the feline. She jumped onto the table and followed him, mirth shining in her green eyes.

“Now that’s not fair!” Bilbo said, moving the bags off the table. “I just _washed_ that! Now off!” He clapped his hands in her face and she jumped, startled, running into the other room. He wiped the table off again. “That’ll teach you,” he muttered, a satisfied smirk lit on his face.

“Scaring the cats?” Beorn asked.

Bilbo glanced at him and chuckled.

“Only when they’re too nosy for their own good. I don’t make a habit of it, though I think they’d be more upset with me if I messed up their fur.”

Beorn laughed, sitting down. “That is true. They don’t like being pet, but _love_ to be pampered.”

The cat sauntered by, head and tail held high in a picture of indignation. When she left the room, they snorted, shoulders shaking.  

Once composed, Bilbo took a deep breath and crossed his arms, staring at Beorn. “How’s your side?”

“Better,” he admits. “Still smarts, but it could be worse.”

“What’s with the cat?” Fili asked, stepping into the room.

Bilbo threw his head back and laughed, almost sliding off the chair he sat on, clutching his belly.

“Something funny?”

Bilbo sat up, breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath. His face ached from smiling.

“Wow, Bilbo, you’re really red,” Kili said, entering to stand beside his brother.

He cleared his throat.

“I believe you,” he said. “I made you some packs for the journey. Should be enough to get you where you need to go…at least some of the way. I don’t think it will get you as far as you are heading, but it will last you at least to the Shire.”

Fili hefted one of the bags. “This will get us _over_ the mountain, actually, if rationed properly.”

“Thanks, Bilbo!” Kili said, embracing him.

“Well, you should still stop by the market at the Shire just in case,” he suggested, patting the brunet’s back. “You can’t do better than Shire food.”

The boys nodded, agreeing to stop by the Market before heading over the mountains.

Bilbo made breakfast while Beorn showed them a map of the area, explaining which path would be best to take through the treacherous mountain to avoid both Goblins and Orcs.

Bilbo lay the scones and seed cakes down on the table before fetching a pitcher of milk. He furrowed his brow, feeling as though he had forgotten something…

“Right! I forgot!” He turned to the boys. “Remind me to give you the pancake recipe before you go.”

They nodded as their mouths were already filled with pastries.

He glanced at Beorn, examining the giant Man’s movements. He moved stiffly, and there were a few bruises that poked out from under his shirt if Bilbo looked close enough.

Regardless what Beorn told him, he must still be hurting more than he let on and Bilbo cursed a warrior’s stubbornness!

What good would it do them to be injured and shrug it off when they _clearly_ hurt too much?

True, his movements weren’t as stiff as they could have been, but there was still the gash in his side…

Bilbo decided to wait for Fili and Kili to leave before confronting Beorn and checking him for more injuries.

After breakfast, another skin-changer arrived. He was smaller than Beorn, but still quite larger than the average Man.

While he and Beorn talked, Bilbo embraced the boys. “I wish you luck on your journey,” he said. “And if or when you’re this way again, don’t hesitate to stop by.”

“And have more pancakes!” Kili said. “How we’ve used to live without those I’ll _never_ know.”

Bilbo squawked, realizing he had forgotten the recipe again! He scrawled it down on a slip of paper and handed it to Fili, since the elder brother seemed less likely to lose it.

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Fili said, bowing. He nudged Kili’s ribs and the younger mimicked him. “For your and Master Beorn’s hospitality. We are in your debt.”

Bilbo blushed. “No. Not really, but—”

“We are,” Kili said. “And even if we weren’t, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“All right, lads,” Beorn said. “Ready?”

“Yes,” they chorused, following the other skin-changer.

With a final goodbye, they disappeared behind the door.

Bilbo sighed. He’d really gotten used to their presence, those two rapscallions!

Speaking of…

“You have bruises on your back and you’re moving far too stiffly for someone whose injuries just ‘smart.’”

“I beg your pardon?” Beorn asked.

Bilbo glared at him, arms crossed. If he needed to, he’d stand on the table if it meant getting Beorn to heel and let him take a look at his wounds.

Beorn sighs and sits down, removing the furred vest. His back is bruised purple and Bilbo winces.

“How is it you’re even able to walk?!”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Beorn assures him. “This is nothing.”

“Nothing?” he asked.

He poked the bruise along Beorn’s spine. Beorn tenses, hissing, but otherwise, does not react.

Bilbo huffs. “I’ll make another ointment and you can tell me what kept you away for nearly a whole week. We were all worried here.”

Beorn is silent, listening to Bilbo gather a mortar and pistol along with sending the animals to fetch herbs.

“It was a battle to protect the Shire,” he said as though it was not that harrowing, such as “I tripped and banged my knees.”

Bilbo’s hands slowed. “And?”

“The Shire is safe. It will remain safe so long as there are those who are willing to protect it.”

“And what if one day it’s decided that the Shire is just not worth protecting?!” he snapped.

Beorn twisted around to look at him.

“It won’t happen,” he says. “Bilbo, the Shire is one of the purest places in Middle Earth, even if the people who live there aren’t always pleasant, it is _safe_. And that purity—that _safety_ —that is why it’s constantly under attack and also why there are those willing to _protect_ it. Someone will always protect your people.”

“Just not my people _themselves_.”

“There is nothing wrong with being protected.”

“When you’re a _child_ yes. But the Shire is full of _adults_ who are quite capable of protecting themselves and their own if given a chance! But the rangers, Gandalf, _you_ ,” Bilbo slapped his palm onto the table, “treat Hobbits like _children_!”

“If we do,” Beorn said softly, “we don’t mean to.”

Bilbo huffed, grinding herbs and water into a paste which he then rubbed into Beorn’s skin.

“If you insist your people are capable of protecting yourselves, then why do you _not_?”

“Maybe because we aren’t given a chance to. After all, living so close to Orcs and Goblins should allow us to know how to defend ourselves.”

“But did you before? If we were to allow your people to be made _aware_ of the danger, would they be able to defend themselves against such treacherous foes bent on destruction _properly_?”

“Perhaps if weren’t so _sheltered_ we would be a great militant force! What do you say to that?!”

Beorn said nothing.

Blood pumped through Bilbo’s ears and his head hurt terribly in his rage. He could feel his temple pounding.

“Hobbits are too few in number as it is,” Beorn said. “There’s barely a thousand of your people in one chunk of land, Bilbo. Most of those numbers are _women and children_. There are simply not enough men-Hobbits to fight in a way that could properly keep Orcs and Goblins at bay—which will be a continuous task.”

“So you think we’re weak?” Bilbo spat, pressing a tad too hard into the skin.

Beorn turned around and halted Bilbo’s heated rubbing. His grasp was firm, but gentle.

“I _think_ that your people live a sheltered life most who live in this world wish to have,” he said. “Hobbits have an innocence that Men, Elves, and Dwarves were never allowed to have because of all the battles we were forced to wage just to keep what we _do_ have. Hobbits never really had to. And that _innocence_ is why so many, even today, are still protecting your people. They _like_ Hobbits, maybe not all individual Hobbits, but the Rangers and my people _like_ yours, Bilbo.”

Beorn’s finger strokes the skin over Bilbo’s wrist contemplatively.

“Hobbits remind me of rabbits,” he continued. “You’re people are fertile and plentiful in both harvest and in children. Your people are closely associated with the earth and you enjoy your comforts. Nothing like my people. My people are like bears.”

He sighed, squeezing Bilbo’s hand. “We are protective of our charges as a mother is to her cubs. We are warriors and hunters. Our connection with the earth is not as…strong. There is just…something about Hobbits that cannot be touched…you’re somewhat incorruptible.”

“Those are just excuses,” Bilbo said, pulling his hand out of Beorn’s grasp. “I don’t like the idea of being protected. I’m quite capable of protecting myself, thank you very much! I just wish I’d have the _chance_ to prove it.”

He set the bowl on the table and headed outside. He needed a smoke to help calm down. Beorn was alive, but surely there were casualties. These…wars that the Orcs and Goblins keep waging on the Shire _have_ to be _their_ problem. Not rangers or Beorn’s. Theirs. _His_.

He just wished he—and his people—were given the chance to prove they were just as formidable as the rest of Middle Earth.


	8. Chapter 8

Fat flakes of frost fell from the sky in the middle of the night and carried on well into morning, layering the land in a giant, heavy layer or snow and ice.

And all this just the day before Tribute Day. One step outside and Bilbo had dove back under his bed, soaking in the warmth again, wrapped around his blanket.

 _Goodness, am I going to become like a bear and hibernate in winter?_ He asked himself.

“Bilbo?”

He pulled the blankets off only to look at Beorn through a small peephole made out of the folds of the blankets. Beorn was not smiling—or more likely trying _not_ to smile though his eyes showed his mirth in plenty.

“Yes?” Bilbo asked.

“I guess you would rather stay in bed than visit your home? I’m heading to the Shire for the goods your people leave out.”

“Is it Tribute Day already? No. I’m quite content to stay here, thank you. It is _far too cold_ for a Hobbit to be out without something to keep him warm!”

“Aye, it is a bit chilly.”

“A _bit_?”

Beorn chuckled. “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

“Okay. Take care.” Beorn closed the door behind him and Bilbo dove back under the covers.

_Why didn’t I think to…oh yeah, I wasn’t given a bloody chance to grab anything! Stupid relatives! Blast those…those… **tomnoddies!** Had they given me a chance to pack, I could be out having a snow ball fight with the dogs!_

As it was, he spent most of the day in his room, venturing out of the cocoon to eat hot soup and cocoa. When three cats decided to join him, he wasn’t sure whether to feel disturbed that they want to cuddle with him or pleased that they’re finally getting used to him being around.

Now if only that one big fat cat would get off him…

Night descended on the house sooner than Bilbo had expected it would and one of the cats left its comfortable spot to light the candles before returning.

“You know, I’m glad you like me a little more than before now,” Bilbo said, “But is it really necessary for you all to join me?”

The cats purred and one bunted his head against Bilbo’s cheek, forever assuring him that cats were the most befuddling of all the animals in the vicinity.

A knock on the door sent every pair of eyes onto Beorn as he entered. “Still in bed?”

“I kind of got blocked in,” Bilbo said. “If you haven’t noticed. I went to the bathroom earlier and when I returned, _my spot_ on the bed and been taken over!”

Beorn hummed. “Yes, cats are known to do that.”

“Bed hogs,” Bilbo muttered. The cats glared at Bilbo indignantly. “Oh, stop it, you all are!” Beorn laughed. “ _They are!_ ”

“I _know_ they are,” Beorn said. “And I came with gifts for you if you’re willing to untangle yourself out of your cocoon long enough to brave the cold and see what your relatives bequeathed.”

“Give me a moment— _get off_!”

He shoved the fat cat off him, earning a _“raow!”_ from the beast, and stepped around the others. Beorn handed him a package which Bilbo tore into. He grinned when he saw the gear within:

A floppy hat with ear flaps, a thick wolf-pelt coat ( _his_ wolf-pelt coat), three pairs of thick-weave winter trousers and shirts, leather oil-skin gloves with fur lining the inside, and a Hobbit’s pair of winter boots.

“I did not know your people cared for shoes,” Beorn said, staring at the shoes.

“We don’t, but, well, snow is one of the few things that could really hurt a Hobbit’s feet,” he said. “Frostbite used to be too common of an occurrence and while _no one_ liked shoes they have their uses. We never wear them save for in winter. They’re made of leather oilskin, same as the gloves, to keep out the wet and lined with soft wool inside to keep toes warm. As for the buckles, well, there’s merely no point in learning how to tie shoe laces if you never go around with them three-quarters of the year.”

Bilbo directed his grin at Beorn. “Thank you. You’ve no idea how helpful this is!”

Beorn blushed, scratching the back of his head. “Well, it doesn’t seem right, you trying to hibernate…”

“I suppose not,” Bilbo agreed. “But still, whatever reason you have for getting these for me, thank you.” He straightened a bit. “Now, I think I’ll go take a bath and then make supper. You’ll have to pardon the wait.”

“It is pardoned, I would not wish to rush you,” Beorn said, heading out the door. “I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be quite busy for you?”

“Indeed!” Bilbo nodded solemnly. “I just wasted a day because of the blasted cold. Now that I’ve proper winter-wear, I’ve no excuse for being idle.”

#

Bilbo rarely ventured out into the snow himself because when he tried, he ended up being neck deep in the ice—which he decided was far from pleasant.

Beorn and the dogs built a maze for him and the smaller animals though, so they could travel outside with a little more ease.

And Bilbo appreciated that, though the time a heap of snow fell on him was far from comforting and he spent the next week in bed with a cold.

Staying inside was much easier and far warmer. Inside, Bilbo could read to Beorn by the roaring fire and drink cocoa while wrapped in warm blankets. Two days after Bilbo had recovered from his cold, Beorn returned, dragging a cut evergreen tree.

The animals decorated it in bobbles and woven thread streamers. Stockings were hung by the fire. Branches were wrung into a circle and wound with bows and hollies.

Yule was upon them and while Bilbo was excited to see the transformations made around the house, he also despaired.

What was he supposed to get everyone?

Not only that: many of Beorn’s animal companions were rather nosy from the tiniest bunny to the biggest dog.

Bilbo couldn’t quite find the time to make the gifts he wished to make for them because they _would not leave him alone_ so he could make gifts!

Bilbo huffed his annoyance while making dinner one evening, at a loss at what to make and with none of the privacy to come up with something worthwhile! Time would soon be up and Bilbo felt a small prick of despair beginning to build up in his heart.

 _It would be terrible if I can’t give at least Beorn a gift,_ he thought with a sigh.

Loud knocking pulled him out of his cooking and he abandoned the still simmering vegetables to answer the door.

“Bilbo!” several voices screamed, tackling him.

“You’re alive!”

“You’re _whole_!”

“Of course I am!” Bilbo said, trying to wrench his cousins off him. “Why are you here? _How_ did you get here in the first place?! You know what: tell me everything while I add more to the pot. You’re just about on time for dinner.”

“Wonderful!”

Bilbo looked away from the Tooks and the Bagginses entering the hall to see two wizards beaming at him.

Gandalf nodded. “You may need to warn Master Beorn of our arrival, Bilbo.”

“I should, though I’m certain wizards _like_ to arrive unexpectedly and without any formal announcement,” he mused, leading them inside. “What brings you here anyway? And why did you bring my cousins?! You know they’ll most likely cause Beorn worlds of trouble!”

“I’m sure they’ll behave once things get under control. And Radagast and I always try to spend Yule here. Beorn’s celebrations are rather merry. I believe that this one will be merrier than usual.”

“WHAT IN THE BLACK PIT OF MORDOR IS GOING ON?!!”

Bilbo blanched and ran to the living room.

His Took relatives causing mayhem in the kitchen and the living room already.

The Bagginses had overtaken the cooking of dinner while the others paused in playing with the dogs.

Bilbo cleared his throat, quaking under Beorn’s dark glare. “Had I known they’d be coming, I’d have let you know, Beorn,” he promised. “As it was, they just arrived and I’m afraid they tend to be, well, rambunctious at best. They, I think, decided to join Gandalf and Radagast here for the holiday.”

“Well, we haven’t heard from you in months!” Sigismond said, sitting up. “What exactly were we supposed to do? _Ask_ the bear king and never know with our own eyes how you fared?”

“Besides, no one in our generation think it’s fair of the others to have sent you off without any explanation!” Prisca added. “And when he came by the last tribute day requesting that we get some winter wear for you, we knew we had to see you!”

The others nodded and Bilbo smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’ve decided to come, but what about your parents? Some of you are younger than I am!”

He sent glances toward his Baggins cousins—of whom he was the eldest.They grinned and turned to the Tooks. Fortinbras cleared his throat.

“Well, it was _originally_ just going to be me, Adalgrim, Flambard, and Sigismond, but then…” he waved his hands at the younger Bagginses—most, if not half, of whom were underage. “Let’s just say I’d never have guessed Bagginses to be so Tookish. I’m somewhat impressed by their daring.”

Beorn sighed, massaging his temple, muttering about “rabbits” and “meddlesome wizards.”

“The dogs will set rooms up for you.”

“Thank you kindly,” Falco said with a bow, which was followed by a chorus of “thank you for your hospitality” from the others.

After that, the kitchen became a center of rigorous discipline akin to a Master at Arms and his soldiers while the Bagginses made more than enough food to serve for dinner within the next hour and a half.

The Tooks shared pipe weed with the wizards and Beorn.

Bilbo took a moment to step outside and catch his breath. His cousins had come. His cousins were worried about him and they had come. He was not just abandoned by his family as though sentenced to burn on a funeral pyre, never to be spoken of again.

A weight he did not notice he had was lifted off his shoulders and when he felt composed enough, went to fetch his own pipe and joined the others in the living room.

 _Yule this year will be interesting, I bet_ , he thought. His eyes shifted to the giant Man, laughing at something Adalgrim had said. _I’ve still no idea what to make for Beorn_.


	9. Chapter 9

Bilbo shot up in the middle of the night, panting.

A grin spread on his face and he got out of bed, dressing warmly and lighting a candle before heading to the study that had been provided for him.

He knew what to give his host for Yule and he would be _damned_ if he spent another minute wasting time with something as trivial as sleep.

He piled papers on the desk, unscrewed the cap from the inkwell and dipped the tip of his quill into the black liquid, scraping access ink back inside it. He chewed his lip, frowning at the blank page.

Then he pressed the quill to the parchment and began to write.

_It began long ago in a land far to the east…_

#

“You’ve been busy.” Bilbo set the quill down and bent over the pages, glaring at Fortinbras. The eldest of the group shrugged. “Something for Mr. Beorn? Or is it for me?”

“If I had _known_ you’d all be coming, I’d have your gifts already set aside,” Bilbo snapped. “As it is, I was caught completely unawares. Really! Next time at least _tell_ me you’re coming Fort.”

Fortinbras’ eyes sparkled merrily. “All right. I will.”

Bilbo straightened a little bit, only to dive over the pages again as fast as he dared without bending them when Fortinbras tried to read what had been written.

“Do you mind?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “You’re stories are always good, Bilbo. I couldn’t help it.”

Bilbo huffed. “There is something I want to talk to you about, actually.” Fortinbras cleared his throat, noticing Bilbo’s serious tone.

“May I ask what?”

Bilbo explained the attacks that had been happening and the Big Folk’s insistence that they stay out of it. Fortinbras’ smile had died in his telling and his eyes had darkened.

“You are certain of this?”

“Had I not _seen_ Orcs attack Beorn before, I would not be sure if I fully believed it.”

Fortinbras sighed. “I will speak to my father about it when we return. I’m not sure how many will agree to try, but if indeed there have been skirmishes that we were unaware of so close to our borders, I agree that we have every right to know and to be involved. True our numbers are few, but we won’t gain any respect if the Big Folk keep stealing our spotlight.” His grin returned. “Thank you for telling me about this, Bilbo. I’d hate to think of what would happen if we were forced to endure another massacre.”

Bilbo nodded. “We’ve been through too many. That we _haven’t_ done something about it before makes me wonder…”

“Well, we are more adaptable than we like to think. We will fight if it comes down to it, but it may be best if we have more than just a ragtag militia.” Fortinbras pats his shoulder. “If you’re still insistent in guarding your gift, then I’ll have one of the others bring in your breakfast.”

Bilbo grinned. “Thank you, Fort. I’d rather eat with the group, though. I’d shudder to think of the damage a drop of milk or a tiny crumb would do to my hard work!”

“Then I’ll send someone to fetch you when breakfast is ready.” Bilbo agreed to this and was allowed to continue writing his story…

#

Bilbo set his quill down and grinned. Finished. It was _finally_ finished! He leaned back in his seat and yawned, glancing out the window. It had begun to snow again while he wrote and the night sky was the color of tapioca in the midst of snowfall.

He bound the pages in leather and wrapped the book with paper before setting it—

Bilbo blanched, remembering at long last the _Beorn didn’t know how to read!_

It was too late to do something else. Everyone would wake in the morning and open presents after breakfast. He sighed, setting it down under the tree and went to bed. He could read it to Beorn, of course, but the thought didn’t make him feel much better.

_How could I forget something like that?! One doesn’t just easily forget that their friend is illiterate!_

“Or perhaps they could,” Bilbo mumbled, climbing into bed with a sigh. “I certainly did.”

He tossed and turned, worried through the rest of the night, that he was hardly awake when he joined the others for breakfast, barely able to keep his eyes.

“Something wrong, Bilbo?” Drogo asked. Bilbo smiled at the lad and shook his head.

“I’m okay, Drogo. Just a little tired,” Bilbo assured him, attempting to smile. None of his cousins were convinced. He sighed. “I was up late and had trouble sleeping. All right? Now if that’s _all_ , maybe we should get back to eating?” he glanced at the Tooks, who nodded.

“Wouldn’t want to miss opening presents,” Adalgrim said. “Longer you take to eat, the longer it’ll be before we get there.”

The youths turned back to their food, shoveling it into their mouths.

Beorn joined them later, asking how they slept, what they planned to do later, and so on…Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to pay attention, eating his breakfast slowly.

Beorn patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “What has you so glum?”

“Er…” Bilbo blushed and bit his lip. “Nothing.” _You’ll find out soon enough anyway._

They gathered in the living room, passing gifts around, and Bilbo’s heart sunk further. Hard pressed or not, it was highly unacceptable for a Hobbit to _not_ have gifts for everyone. Usually there were mathoms a-plenty to go around.

But Bilbo hadn’t any mathoms readily available to pass out. He felt he might pass out when his gift found its way to Beorn’s hands. Bilbo wished he could sink into his seat or disappear—now that would be a handy trick.

“Bilbo?”

He looked up, eyes wide and he felt tears prickling at them. “I forgot you couldn’t read after I…” He chewed his lip. Beorn sat beside him on the carpet, handing it to him.

“Would you read to us?”

He looked up. Beorn didn’t look mad or upset that Bilbo had forgotten…which cheered Bilbo up quite a bit. He opened the book and began to read…

#

_BANG!!!_

The sparks trailed high, up into the air. Animals scurried for cover, eyes wide and fearful while the Hobbits stared at the fireworks booming in the sky. Beorn was snapping at Gandalf for scaring his friends, but the wizard was not perturbed.

Even when Radagast also starting harping on him for scaring his hedgehog, now hiding in his robes, Gandalf would not relent, sending up another firework in spite of the animal lovers’ complaints.

Bilbo clapped and cheered with the others at another explosion.

Sigismond and Flambard disappeared found only when a large _bang_ drew everyone’s attention away from the fireworks Gandalf lit to see sparks flying over the house, sparks catching on the damp wood. Beorn rushed past, screaming at the duo who exuded a mix of mischief and innocence.

Bilbo turned to Adalgrim and Fortinbras, an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t look at us!” Adalgrim said. “We aren’t the ones who tried to set the house on fire.”

“Thankfully the wood’s damp from the snow.”

“That’s beside the point, I think,” Bilbo muttered. “Couldn’t you have _watched_ them?” They exchanged glances and shrugged. Bilbo sighed.

_One would think the Tooks would at least be more mature as they’re older…but then they wouldn’t be Tooks, would they?_

Beorn returned, grimacing, with Flambard and Sigismond under his arms. He dumped them on the ground, ignoring their “oofs” and sitting down, arms crossed and glaring at Gandalf.

“Don’t look at me!” Gandalf said. “I’m not their mother. Besides, your house is _fine_.”

“Any other time of year it’d be on _fire_.”

“Then be glad it’s winter,” Gandalf snapped, lighting another firework that whizzed into the air and exploded. Beorn closed his eyes, grinding his teeth.

Bilbo approached him. “Are you okay?”

Beorn opened his eyes and looked down at him, twisting his smile into a grin. Or tried to. “I’m not fond of fireworks,” he admitted. “For certain reason you have seen.”

“That’s all right. Gandalf’s a stubborn old coot and doesn’t like it when he’s told no. Especially when there’s a larger group cheering him on…We did get as far away from the house as we tried. That it was nearly set on fire is my cousins fault. Gandalf will handle them well enough.”

“It’s not just the fire, it’s the bangs and the smoke!”

“Completely natural and harmless,” Bilbo assured him, patting his hand. “We have fireworks all the time in the Shire. And the show’s almost done. We’ll have a late dinner ready when we get home and there’ll be singing and drinking. It’ll be merrier in a little bit. I promise.”

Beorn gripped Bilbo’s hand in his. Bilbo’s heart skipped and he wondered _why_ that would happen. “Thank you, Bilbo. I’ll need a good tank of mead _after this_.” He shot a glare at Gandalf as a whizzing explosive spiraled in orange sparks upward over the trees.

“Well, there will be plenty of mead and ale to go around,” Bilbo promised. Beorn lifted him onto his lap, embracing him with one thick arm. Bilbo glanced up at the larger male. “Beorn?”

He said nothing, staring at the sky, covered in smoke and lit with fire. Bilbo hummed, his curiosity getting the better of him, but he pushed it aside and squeaked at an unanticipated and quite loud _CRACK!!_

Bilbo shot Gandalf a glare, rubbing his now ringing ears. The dratted wizard bowed his apology and continued lighting fireworks in earnest.

He glanced up at Beorn again, chewing his bottom lip, when the arm tightened around him a little more, but not enough that he couldn’t breathe. Bilbo pressed his back into Beorn’s torso, smelling wood and earth and a little bit of smoke.

Overcome with melancholy, Bilbo sighed, listening to his heart beat in his heart and painfully aware of the tingling he feels in his fingers when he touches the Man and a voice vibrating in the back of his head, asking the same question more than once since Beorn picked him up.

_When did I fall in love with him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Hobbit tradition, I gift you with an early update on my birthday! :D


	10. Chapter 10

The Tooks and Bagginses left three days later with Gandalf and Radagast, promising to return sometime soon. “ _With_ a letter in _advance_ next time,” Bilbo snapped at them.

They agreed, but several glints made him wonder if he ought to just expect them to return unannounced again. It certainly would be like them.

He sighed when he gave them a final goodbye and closed the door behind them.

The next day, Beorn had left to patrol the borders and check on the other shape shifters under his command.

After which, he cleaned slowly, distracting himself with a sense of thoroughness as not to let his mind wander as it had been wont to do the last few days.

The animals watched him curiously.

 _Perhaps I should think about going home_ , he mused, sitting at the table and tapping his fingers against the wood. He had been wondering on it since realizing he felt things for his host.

But surely, even if he did prefer men to women, Bilbo could see a number of issues in pursuing Beorn.

Beorn was, after all, larger than normal for a Man and Bilbo was admittedly average height for a Hobbit. He sighed, laying his head on the table.

 _I doubt it’d be comfortable,_ he thought.

It was logical to think that Beorn may be _larger_ all around anyway.

Bilbo sighed at a more depressing thought than _that_.

_What if he wants children? Or exclusively is attracted to females?_

He tried to fight down a whine in the back of his throat, biting his lip. His eyes stung and he closed them, breathing shakily.

_I should just let him know I’d like to go home when he gets back. I don’t want to, but I doubt I can stay here and…and…_

Bilbo sat up and made dinner with the same concentration he used to focus on cleaning the house. Beorn returned just before the meal was ready and sat down at the table.

“Why so quiet, little bunny?”

Bilbo glared at him in response to the nickname. Beorn’s grin makes his heart jump and for a moment he thinks he _can’t_ tell him.

“It’s not like you to be so quiet Bilbo.”

He swallows. “I…well…I feel a little bit homesick,” he said slowly. “What with my cousins visiting and all…It doesn’t have to be immediate, but I’d like to go home…if that’s okay with you.”

He turns back to preparing the meal. His hands shook and his vision blurred as he felt his heart break.

_It’s not too late. Take it back. Say you changed your mind!_

“Of course,” Beorn replies. “I won’t be that way for a few more weeks, though.”

“Okay.”

“The next ‘tribute day’ then? It’s not for a couple weeks yet.”

“That’s perfect,” he replied.

_Tell him you changed your mind! Tell him you don’t want to go! Or at least tell him the truth._

_I can’t._

_Tell him you love him!_

_I can’t! _

He heard the scrape of a chair against the floor and Beorn’s heavy footprints fading down the hall. Bilbo didn’t dare to look up until he was certain Beorn would not return.

Had what he said upset his host somehow?

They had agreed that Bilbo could leave any time he wished, did they not?

Or was that just a flux to get Bilbo to trust Beorn—

Bilbo shook the thoughts from his mind. Beorn had been nothing but kind to him. Maybe he lost his appetite. It rarely happened, but sometimes it did.

He made to go ask Beorn if he wanted food saved for him, but thought against it and saved a large portion for him anyway.

#

 _I’ll be returning home on Tribute Day,_ he wrote the Thain, _Which is in a little less than two weeks from now. I will see you then and hopefully my house will be Sackville-Baggins free when I return…_

He read over the letter while it dried before sealing it with wax and sending it with a runner to the Shire.

 _Write another one_ , his heart urged. _Tell them you changed your mind and that you’ll stay. You want to stay._

He pushed the thought aside and made second breakfast. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to eat. Needed to act like his heart wasn’t breaking at the thought of leaving this house.

A dog whined and nudged him with her nose. Bilbo scratched the dog’s head.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispered. “I love him, but I…I _want_ to stay, but I _can’t_.”

He scratched behind an ear. The dog’s leg raised and pounded against the floor in contentment.

“There are too many factors against it. I can’t get pregnant. And our sizes are just too different. As much as I’d like it to work, it just won’t…It won’t.”

He hugged the dog around her neck, earning a slobbery kiss.

“I don’t want to go,” he repeated, “But I can’t stay either. My heart won’t be able to take it if I do and it’d be easier to leave and never think of it again if there was never a relationship beyond a platonic one to begin with. Right?”

The dog whined, pulling away from him to sniff at a cat, which batted her nose with a paw and stared at Bilbo. The cocky feline, Bilbo thought, rolled her eyes and sauntered away, tail in the air.

“And some wonder why no one wants to be a cat,” he muttered.

#

The days were almost boring if not heartbreaking for Bilbo.

He hadn’t seen Beorn around much and when he did, the large man would come up with some excuse not to be in his presence for long. It hurt that he was being avoided and made Bilbo wish his departure date could come faster than it was.

He tried to keeps himself from moping too much, packing and unpacking and repacking again. It grew a bit monotonous and he’d wander through the snow maze in the yard.

_It’s not too late._

_Go to him._

_Tell him how you feel._

_Tell him you don’t really want to go._

_Or if you really must, tell him you’ll come back._

Again, he ignored his heart, digging his nails through the fabric to ease the ache in his chest.

Beorn also didn’t seem want Bilbo to read to him anymore, refusing to join Bilbo and the animals by the hearth when he read.

He still read aloud for the animals as they liked the stories at least and the children would clamor around him to try and look over his shoulder.

One night, he saw Beorn’s shadow in the other room.

He got angry, but not enough to confront him, though he wanted to ask, if he still wanted to hear stories why wasn’t he joining them?

Why hide?

At night, he curled into a ball with his blankets over his head and let his defenses down, crying muffled beneath the blankets and by pressing his face into the pillow. He fisted the sheets into scrunched balls in his hands. Otherwise, he was certain he’d break the skin of his palms.

#

_Dear Beorn,_

_~~I suppose I hurt you with my saying I want to leave, but the truth is~~ _

_I am sorry. I want to stay, but I have to leave. You see, ~~I love you. And I’ m leave because I don’t think you love me too~~_

_~~I have to~~ _

_~~I want to~~ _

_I don’t have any reason. I want to stay. Believe me, I do. ~~But~~_

Bilbo groaned, crumpling the letter and throwing it into the fire. He sat beside the hearth, hiding his face in his knees.

He was leaving tomorrow.

 _I best go get some sleep if I can_ , he decided, standing and wiping his eyes before entering his room and climbing into bed, letting his sorrow reign more freely.

His door creaked open after some time. Bilbo bolted upright in bed, startled. He rubbed the tears from his eyes and sniffed, having no handkerchief nearby to blow his nose with.

“Bilbo?” Beorn said. “Are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” he said, wishing he didn’t sound so nasally.

_Why have you come now after working so hard to avoid me?_

Beorn closed the door behind him and approached the bed, kneeling beside it. He took Bilbo’s hand in his, head bowed.

“I know you would have left eventually, but I don’t want you to go. I understand you are homesick and I will not hold you prisoner here, but…I love you, Bilbo.”

Bilbo gaped at him, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

“I am in love with you and I thought I could… _wait_ to tell you, but…”

He closed and opened his mouth, trying to find words.

“Why…Why didn’t you tell me before then? You could have saved us both a lot of trouble then! Beorn, that’s _why_ I wanted to leave!”

He winced when Beorn’s face fell.

_Wrong word choice, Bilbo you ass!_

“What I mean is I love you too and I didn’t dare say anything because I didn’t dare to hope you’d…I didn’t think you’d want me. I’m too small, so having sex could pose a problem, and I can’t have children and—what’s so funny?”

“I have a son, Bilbo,” he admitted. “I was married before. She passed away a very long time ago and I had grown used to living without her. My son is one of the bears patrolling the Shire and has his own home. I don’t need more children. As for your size, I don’t care about that. I think you’re perfectly suited to your size. I love you for who you are and we will figure out what works best for mating, little bunny.”

Bilbo leaned forward, pressing his lips to Beorn’s. A large hand pet his curls. He shivered, such a large hand and yet so gentle.

He wrapped his arms around Beorn’s neck, pressing his lips a little harder to Beorn’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote the scene where they confess their feelings for each other while listening to Evanescence’s “Anywhere” on my Pandora. :D Yep. 
> 
> Quick question, does anyone want smut in the story or would it be okay to have a PWP? I ask because it may affect how many chapters the story ends on (11 for now, but might be 12 if we go with smut)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot guarantee that the following proportions to be correct in any way. I am bad at math, but I tried…

_He wrapped his arms around Beorn’s neck, pressing his lips a little harder to Beorn’s mouth._

Beorn pushed him down onto the bed, resting his hand on Bilbo’s belly and the other supported his weight. Bilbo threaded his small hand through Beorn’s beard, curling his fingers around the hairs and gently tugging, swiping his tongue across Beorn’s teeth. He gasps at the larger tongue which curled around his in another heated kiss.

The kiss ends as Beorn shifts to lave attention to Bilbo’s neck, peppering small kisses along the arch of his neck. Bilbo releases Beorn’s beard, letting the sensations arouse him. He still wasn’t sure how _this_ would work, but he focused on breathing, allowing the larger man— _much_ larger—to take control.

The hand on his stomach moved, pushing his nightclothes up and over his head. Beorn kissed him again before moving back to Bilbo’s neck. He kissed his shoulder and down to his chest, hands gently yet firmly caressing his thighs. Bilbo closed his eyes, breathing deeply as his cock twitched at a slight brush of fingers along the shaft as his legs were pushed up to his shoulders.

His body thrummed. _One day_ , he thought, _One day I am sure I can take him in me. Maybe not now, but certainly someday_.

Beorn licked at his shaft from root to tip. Were he not pinned to the bed, Bilbo was certain he’d have thrust into the mouth where said tongue resided. He felt his climax approach and whined, tugging on Beorn’s hair to urge him on.

Instead, his cock was abandoned, to Bilbo’s quite vocal disappointment, and Beorn moved down to toward the clefts of Bilbo’s rear, releasing his legs which came to rest on the expanse of Beorn’s shoulders. Bilbo’s eyes fluttered closed again as the mounds were pushed apart and the same, teasing tongue slid against his hole. Bilbo whined at the press of that tongue against his hole, probing carefully, testily.

“Please,” Bilbo whispered, scratching Beorn’s scalp. “More.”

Beorn pushed his tongue gently inside. Bilbo removed one hand, curling it around his saliva slicked cock. He slid his hand up, arching his back and mouth slack. Heat coiled low within him. Beorn’s thumbs rubbed circles into his thighs as a fire built within Bilbo.

He moaned, spreading a bead of pre-cum around the head of his cock. Beorn’s tongue pulled out and slid over his perineum, paused to suck at his sack, and sent Bilbo over the edge, eyes snapping open. Cum splattered his hand and chest Bilbo removed the soaked hand from his cock, but was stopped by Beorn’s hand. The appendage entered his mouth, sucking it clean. Bilbo groaned and closed his eyes again.

 _By the Valar, that_ tongue _!_

Beorn licked him clean, nipping at Bilbo’s skin before capturing his lips again. Bilbo gripped at Beorn’s jerkin, pulling at the knots keeping it closed. Thicker fingers came to his aid. When the jerkin was loose and removed, Bilbo ran his hands over Beorn’s chest, fingers lacing through the hairs and down to his stomach, pectorals flexing under his touch.

“Roll over, Love,” Bilbo said. “On your back.”

Beorn obeyed, letting Bilbo take over as he kissed down the side of his chest to his stomach. Bilbo unlaced his breeches, freeing his cock. Bilbo swallowed. It was nearly the length of his arm and just as thick—at least, it seemed so to Bilbo in the dark.

He licked his lips, closing both hands around the base of the shaft and sliding it up until it came to the head. Bilbo liked the tip, pressing his tongue into the slit.

“Bilbo…”

He glanced up at Beorn and licked again, never breaking eye contact with him. He watched Beorn’s eyes widen as he slowly took him into his mouth.

Bilbo wasn’t sure if he could get all of Beorn inside his mouth—he wasn’t all that certain he could fit the head in—but he managed as much as he could and what he couldn’t fit he stroked with his hands. Saliva dripped past his lips and covered Beorn’s cock, slickening the length and his fingers as they stroked him.

“ _Fuck_!” Beorn hissed, seizing Bilbo’s hair and pulling him off before cumming over Bilbo’s face. “Bilbo, I’m sorry!” Bilbo slid his tongue out and licked what had gotten on his lips before swiping some off his cheeks with his fingers and licking each appendage.

“I happen to like it. You taste good.” Bilbo blushed. “Oh…” _Of all the times for my Tookishness to run out on me, damn it!_

Beorn laughed, pulling Bilbo to his chest. “Get some rest, Little Bunny.”

“ _Not_ a bunny,” Bilbo muttered, snuggling against Beorn’s chest.

#

Bilbo woke groggily, still called to sleep by the warmth around him. He nestled closer to the source of the heat, grinning. Beorn’s hand rested on his back. Bilbo could feel Beorn’s heart beat and felt the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He game to terms with that he was, in fact, awake, but did not move to get up.

He sat up, peered blurry eyed at Beorn, and smiled before curling up beside him again, hiding under the covers. He pressed his fingers against Beorn’s stomach, tracing the lines of his muscled abs before placing kisses along them.

“M’afraid we don’t have time this morning. Not if we are going to the Shire today.”

Bilbo crawled out from under the covers. “Good morning,” he said, planting kisses on Beorn’s face and neck. “We should get up.”

“Then a bunny should be getting up.”

“As should a bear,” Bilbo countered, nipping at the skin where Beorn’s neck met his shoulder. “But I don’t see you making any move to stop me.”

Beorn chuckled, rolling Bilbo onto his back and kissing him before getting up and pulling on his discarded brais. Bilbo pouted, sitting up. Beorn stood, lacing his breeches closed and kissed Bilbo again. “We have time for a bath and breakfast. They won’t expect us till around midday.”

Bilbo sighed and stretched. “I suppose you’re right. We may stay a little longer than usual though since I have to talk to the Thain about some things before everything is settled. If things go our way we should be back home tonight, but if not…”

He wasn’t sure the Shire had lodgings to accommodate someone of Beorn’s size…

“We’ll figure it out,” Beorn promised, kissing his forehead before leaving the room. Bilbo sat up when the door closed.

 _What am I going to tell them?_ he thought. His relatives would be shocked—some would be scandalized without a doubt. The Bracegirdles and Sackville-Bagginses among them. He didn’t care about their opinion. And the Tooks would only care that he was well cared for. And he was.

Bilbo got out of bed and grabbed fresh clothes. He could bathe quickly, make a fast breakfast, and they could leave within an hour or two. He nodded, agreeing with that plan and went to get ready…

#

The Shire, it seemed, had not changed at all. Bilbo could see nearly everything from his vantage point on Beorn’s shoulder. He could see smoke rising from chimneys built into the underground homes. He could point out where the market was and the river. The forest, the mountains…

“No one would even have known there’d been a battle,” he mumbled. Beorn hummed, setting the cart down. Bilbo did not comment, sliding off Beorn’s shoulder and onto the cart. He then jumped down onto the ground and stretched.

“Would you like to come?” He asked a little awkwardly. Beorn had never ventured into the Shire further than this to the best of Bilbo’s knowledge and he wasn’t sure how his people would act if they suddenly had a giant man roaming the hills.

Beorn shook his head. “Best if I don’t. Your people are twitchy at best.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and walked up the hill.

“Isn’t that Bilbo Baggins?!”

“Did he run away?”

“Goodness I hope not! I’d not like the Bear King running amok here! Probably ruin my petunias.”

“Mr. Bilbo! How’d you get away?!”

Bilbo paused and turned to the onlookers. “I didn’t,” he said. “Just visiting for the day. Or have you forgotten that it’s tribute day? Beorn’s waiting with the cart right now if you’d like to hurry.” He grinned. “I’d not risk making the Bear King angry. Would you?”

They dispersed, rushing to get their tributes and Bilbo laughed, continuing the trek to Tuckborough. He arrived at a round, blue door and rapped his knuckles against the wood.

“Half a moment! Almost there!” The door swung open and Fortinbras grinned. “Bilbo!”

“Hello, Fort,” Bilbo said, letting his cousin pull him into a hug. “How’s your father?”

“Good. He’s good. We’ve been looking into what you told us and he’s arranging to meet with the clans as well as the rangers patrolling the borders. I told him what you told me about the bears and he’d also, if possible, like to meet with Mr. Beorn.”

Bilbo’s grin stretched further. “Wonderful! I’m glad he listened.”

“As am I,” Fortinbras sighed. “This motion won’t be popular with many, but if it gains us a little bit of respect and credibility among the others, then we’ll move forward with it anyway. So, what brings you back? Get homesick?”

“A bit, but…that’s actually not why I’m here. I’m going back with him today—”

“What?!”

“Fort, please listen first.” Bilbo told him how he realized he had fallen in love with Beorn and the confession last night. “Until then,” he concluded, “I was going to come home permanently.”

“Huh. How will it work with you know,” he made some motions with his hands which Bilbo slapped. “It’s a valid question!”

“We agreed to worry about _that_ later. And it’s none of your business!”

“Aw…you’re no fun.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “May I _please_ speak with the Thain?” Fortinbras snorted and knocked on another door.

“Yes?”

“Dad, Bilbo’s home.”

The door flung open and Bilbo grinned at his uncle. “Hello Uncle Isumbras.” The elder Hobbit laughed, pulling him into a hug.

“Come in, Bilbo, come in. We’ve much to discuss.”

“We do,” he agreed. “Much indeed.” He stepped inside with Fortinbras and the door closed behind him. “Where do I begin?” he asked.

“Best at the beginning,” Isumbras said, sitting down. “From that tribute day the Bear King asked for you.”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’d be easier to start a tad earlier. You see, I was walking in the woods one day and I came across a large bear with its paw caught in a poacher’s trap…”

**_~The End~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! A special thanks to reviewers!


End file.
